Friendly Chats
by Julia451
Summary: One-shot. 2 conversations between Bellwether and Judy: one during the weeks of unrest when the new mayor tries to comprehend what caused the drastic change in her once greatest ally and help her get over that fox; and one after the ending where the last few remaining questions are asked and answered. Nick/Judy
Officer Hopps was escorting a cougar to the door as Mayor Bellwether was walking in.

"Sorry for the trouble, sir," Judy said meekly as he stepped over the threshold.

"Yeah, I bet you are," he replied gruffly.

Judy raised her arm in farewell and tried to smile as she added, "Thank you for your co-", but he had already stepped out without looking back at her. She finished by feebly whispering, "-operation" as her arm dropped limply back to her side.

"Hello, Judy!" the mayor said, her voice as sweet and chipper and her smile as bright as ever.

The bunny suddenly looked up as if just now noticing someone else was near. "Oh, Mayor Bellwether… good afternoon," she said with more surprise than pleasure.

The sheep's face fell a little. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No, no, not at all. Pretty much business as usual so far today."

"Oh, it looked like that one was giving you a rough time."

Judy shook her head as the two mammals walked deeper into the entrance hall. "Not really."

"What was he so upset about? Too many parking tickets?"

"No, he's the librarian. Grizzoli was called to an incident at the library today, and they… they had to bring him in because a boar caused a disturbance because he thought one of the employees was rude to him and, and when they asked him to leave, he refused, and…" Her voice trailed off softly, as if lacking the energy to continue the story.

Bellwether filled in the blanks on her own. "Well, I'm glad you taught him a lesson about how to treat prey patrons."

"But it wasn't his fault…" It sounded like she meant to say more, but, once again, she just stopped.

"Something wrong?"

Judy sighed and confessed what was eating her about the incident: "They only had to give him a hard time to make it look good and stop the boar from filing a complaint against us. He had no right to act the way he did, but, now, we have to treat him like a victim because he's prey complaining about a predator. If the roles were reversed, no one would bat an eye at prey throwing an unruly predator out a few weeks ago. A predator could get thrown out for screaming and swearing on his cell phone, no questions asked, but if prey gets called on that now… Boom! Unfair! Persecution! Bullying! Violation! Hate crime!" The energy that had suddenly built up in the past few seconds died away just as suddenly. "It's been the same every day for over a month. Predators getting hauled in for every little thing, prey lashing out at predators over everything… How did things get this bad so fast? I never thought that…" She seemed to find completing the thought unnecessary.

"Well, Judy, you know how preds treat prey," the mayor said sincerely, with a trace of confusion at the need to state the obvious. "They bullied and treated us unfairly for centuries. Now that we're finally able to fight back, they'll stop at nothing to keep us down again. That cougar never would have treated another predator like that. You all did a good thing today, reminding them that's not tolerated anymore."

The speech didn't seem to comfort the rabbit, who shook her head listlessly. "Stuff like this… this isn't the answer."

Bellwether shrugged and smiled. "These are dangerous times. We have to protect ourselves by any means necessary." She noticed Judy now raised her head and glanced past her, so she turned and followed her gaze. The officer was looking at a group of various predators being held in the cage across the building.

The sight seemed to prompt Judy to say, "I thought it was my job to protect _everyone_."

"They don't need your protection, Judy," Bellwether scoffed with a "cheer up" grin.

"Not until a few weeks ago," the rabbit murmured more to herself, it seemed, than her listener.

 _Stuff like this wouldn't have bothered you a few weeks ago_ , the new mayor privately thought, careful not to let her puzzlement or disappointment show. She'd been hoping that her ally's newfound distaste for the direction recent events were pushing the city would fade as she got used to it, but her condition still showed no signs of improvement. All the sheep did, however, was put a supportive hoof on her shoulder and innocently say, "Yes, but it would be much worse if you hadn't shown us how much danger we're in a few weeks ago," as if the bunny was referring to exposing the danger everyone was in, not to endangering predators. "I know everybody feels so much safer with _you_ on the force."

Another sigh and "Thank you, mayor," was all Judy said in response, evidently with no desire to prolong this line of conversation – not very encouraging. "I'll tell Chief Bogo you're here."

The perfect opening! "Thank you," Bellwether said in her typical bright, cheery manner. "I need go over the plans for the press conference announcing the proposed curfew for predators. Sooner we can start this silly Public Comment Period, the better. We really need to examine the applicability of that requirement in emergencies like this…" Since Judy displayed no interest in this issue, Bellwether cleared her throat and, frowning slightly, added in a relatively subdued voice, "I understand you declined to make an appearance…?"

Judy's head and ears suddenly snapped upright, her mouth set tight like someone dreading the taste of something they were about to eat. "Yes, I won't be joining you."

"You know how grateful the public is to you for your heroic efforts, Judy," Bellwether reminded her. "They look up to you. They trust you. It would help us immensely if you were there to show your support."

"I know, but… I don't think I can support this." Fortunately, she only sounded sad and embarrassed, not angry.

"You said the same thing when we asked you to nominate a member for the committee assigned to monitor predator officers for signs of savagery. And to join the Board that will determine, based on the number and severity of incidents, if a predator should be declared savage. And to film a commercial for the hotline where prey can file complaints about mistreatment by predators."

The rabbit rubbed the back of her neck as she said awkwardly, "It… it just doesn't seem right."

"What do you mean?"

"They're going too far." She _looked_ adamant, but she sounded very unsure.

"We have to protect the public, Judy…"

Judy didn't let her finish – not a good sign. "Predators are the public, too."

"But they're also the threat."

"We don't know that."

"For now, we have to assume the worst. If all predators have the potential to revert back to their primitive, savage ways without warning, the less opportunity they have to expose themselves to innocent prey, the better."

Bellwether judged that it was a mixture of her own fear of that possibility and her helplessness at having her own words repeated back to her that made Judy grudgingly reply, "I know, but… I think we should focus more on finding out what's going on and stopping it than… than trying things like this."

"We _are_. I've got the best doctors I could find on it, but you know as well as I do that they haven't found anything. If it's in their biology, there's nothing anyone can do, except stop them from hurting others _and_ themselves. It's for their own good, Judy. You remember how that hyena was attacked two nights ago by a goat who thought he was going to pounce on her. The ZPD can't be everywhere at all times. This will help you protect everybody."

"That's what they said when they arrested all those predators who showed up to protest that Prey Protection rally a few days ago. They said it was the only way to stop a riot and protect everyone, but they didn't arrest any prey."

"Well, it's not like prey could hurt predators."

Another sigh of disgust. "Sure looks like what we're doing now."

 _You didn't think so before_ , Bellwether was tempted to remind her, wondering how she could have forgotten what she'd said at the press conference so easily. She chose to word it as, "Don't let them bother you. Preds were on top forever, they'll be fine. They'd eat us little guys alive if they got the chance. It's high time the ZPD started working harder to protect us from them, just like you promised."

Judy's eyes widened, but the softness of her voice showed she was only angry at herself. "That's not what I meant. I said we'd protect all of Zootopia from this… this plague, not all prey from predators."

 _That_ _ **is**_ _what you meant – you've just changed your mind. Why?_ "There's no difference. You can't stop predators from going savage, Judy, you can only stop them from harming weaker prey. Please don't worry about something you can't control," Bellwether pleaded with her, her voice heavy with concern.

Judy gave her a forced smile, as if trying to reassure her. "I know… I just… wish I could do more."

Perfect! "All you can do is help the city feel safe…"

She waited for Judy to catch her drift, but, unfortunately, what the rabbit said next was, "I wish I could make predators feel safe again, too."

At this rate, Bellwether would never get the valuable, popular hero cop to see things her way. Clearly, a more direct approach was needed. "I know. Hardly anyone cares as much about that as you do. Most prey these days think that preds could use a taste of what life's like for us little guys."

"I know, it's sickening."

Better tread carefully here. "I guess… I'm just surprised to hear it from _you_. I mean, the way you talked about predators at that press conference…"

"I was wrong."

"Don't talk like that…" the mayor tried to say.

But Judy wasn't interested in hearing her friend assure her she'd done nothing wrong. "It's true. I had no right to say those things. I wish I could take it all back."

 _What happened to you?_ Bellwether wondered in dismay. _You used to be smarter than all those fools like Gazelle who think preds deserve to be treated like us. You were so quick to believe the worst about Lionheart, your first theory was that predators can't help their savage instincts, and you weren't the least bit ashamed of letting everyone know it. You said everything you thought about dangerous predators as if they were the most natural, obvious facts in the world. It never crossed your mind that there was anything wrong with calling predators the vicious monsters they are. How could you forget all that? If you'd kept that up, my work would be over by now. A few more weeks of hearing that, and that would've become the natural way for everyone to see predators. Nobody would question it. Anybody who did would be persecuted and ridiculed into silence. You were just what I needed. I had you convinced more than anyone. What changed?_

These were questions she didn't dare ask directly, lest she reveal too much about her own motives, but her desire to know was as strong as it was the day Officer Hopps left the press conference in tears, not as the triumphant heroine ready to lead the revolution against their predatory oppressors that Bellwether had been counting on. The only silver lining was that Judy was still clearly unsure of herself; she no longer firmly believed what she'd said that day, but she apparently had no desire to actively take the opposite stance and defend predators in the press or publicly retract what she'd said. Bellwether had to get her back in the right mindset before she reached that point, but she couldn't fix the damage until she knew what had caused it. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," she said gently. "You were only stating the facts."

"But I didn't," Judy insisted, but not harshly. "We don't know that their DNA is making predators go savage. I jumped to conclusions."

 _It's still the only connection as far as you know – that hasn't changed, so what has?_ "Have you thought of anything that's more likely?"

Judy sighed deeply before answering. "No. And I've been monitoring every new case that comes in."

The sheep smiled warmly at her. "I knew you would. See? You don't jump to conclusions. You never could have cracked this case if you didn't investigate every detail thoroughly from every angle. You shouldn't doubt yourself so much, Judy – you knew what you were talking about. Would everybody have believed what you said if it was that out of line?"

She put her hoof on her shoulder again, but Judy turned her face away. " _Everybody_ didn't…"

There was something significant in the wistful way she said that… "You mean predators? Of course they'll deny it. Now that prey have finally remembered they're the enemy, they're desperate to make us forget all about the past again."

She was worried she'd gone too far when Judy said, "Not all predators are the enemy," but she sounded guilty, not offended, as if she was lecturing herself.

Bellwether sighed mournfully and hung her head. "They don't have to be, but they made themselves that way, centuries ago. And, unfortunately, not all prey are as strong as you. You don't understand what it's like to live in constant fear of these creatures. How could you? With your training and skills, you can defend yourself from anything. I wouldn't expect you to be afraid of a lion or a bear or a wolf any more than you were of that fox, but the rest of us…" Bellwether gasped as an alarm bell went off in her head, her thoughts taking a sudden detour. That fox, that incident after her speech… no, it couldn't be…

But Judy confirmed it was as she raised her voice for only the second time: "I was _never_ afraid of him! Not of _him_ …" Bellwether stared at her, dumbfounded, no pretense necessary, until Judy caught herself and shook herself back to her senses. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay, don't worry about it," her friend insisted. Fortunately, Judy was grateful to let the awkward moment drop, leaving the mayor free to fully absorb her discovery. _This is all because of that fox? He did this to her?_ That didn't make any sense. Why would Judy care what some fox thought of her? What was he to her? This wasn't the first time Bellwether had asked herself that question, but she'd thought she'd found the answer long ago.

When Officer Hopps had come to the then-assistant mayor asking if she could look up some tax records for her, she'd felt safe asking, "Who's Nick Wilde?" It was a natural question, and she was curious to know what trail Hopps was on and how fast it would lead her to Lionheart. When the answer was, "I think he might have some information about Otterton. I just… need to be sure he'll cooperate," she hadn't risked asking more, but she had run a background check on this Wilde as soon as Judy had left. He had no connection to any of her targets or associates or to Lionheart that she could find, just a lengthy history of petty run-ins with the law that had never led to a conviction or even an arrest. Just a typical sleazy fox. Officer Hopps hadn't lived in Zootopia long enough to have any history with him – how did she even know him? Well, if she needed help getting him to "cooperate" with her, they couldn't be on very friendly terms. Maybe she was planning on blackmailing him for something – it fit with the information she requested, and it was pleasant to imagine. How appropriate if a predator helped her bring them down! She hoped Hopps gave him a really hard time.

Apparently, it hadn't been hard enough for him to want to keep his distance from her. If she'd been surprised by Judy bringing him to her office two days later and what cordial terms they seemed to be on, that was nothing compared to her confusion when he'd come with her to the press conference. The case was over – what more could she want with him? Bellwether had even gone so far as to ask Chief Bogo, "Who's the fox?"

The buffalo, busy signing a form, had merely shrugged, "Not sure. I think he's her boyfriend or something."

"What?!" She'd been too shocked by such an insane suggestion to be worried about her uncontrollable outburst.

Fortunately, Bogo had had no interest in her reaction. He handed the clipboard off to some official and said nonchalantly, "That's what he looked like two nights ago," before walking off.

Bellwether had kept her eye on Judy and her mysterious companion after the bunny left the podium, and even though she'd been too far away to hear what happened next, she'd seen enough to reaffirm her belief that males had very poor instincts when it came to this kind of thing. When they parted, he was scowling, she was crying, and it was plain that if there had been anything amicable between them, it was now over. She'd tried to find a reporter who had recorded them, but no one had noticed anything interesting going on until their conversation was over. That was a real disappointment – whatever he'd said to make the hero cop so distraught would have made great leverage against predators like him. That was the strongest impression the incident had left on the new mayor. She'd assumed all it could have done for Judy was confirm that predators couldn't be trusted. Was it really possible it had had the opposite effect? That _that_ was what made Judy second-guess herself?

 _Oh, Judy, you didn't fall for it, did you? You didn't start to believe he was your friend or something? Did he really get to you that much?_ He couldn't have – he'd just been a pawn to her. Bellwether had read the reports, she now knew exactly what his role had been, and she admired Judy for how much use she'd gotten out of him, but why would she care what he thought of her? It was so absurd, she'd never even considered such a possibility until now. But given the timing and what Judy had just let slip, what else could it be?

Judy was walking ahead of her by now, allowing the sheep to press her hoof against her forehead without being seen and silently groan in disappointment, half at Judy for letting her down (she thought she was smarter than this), and half at herself for being so slow on the uptake. _I should've known. It's always a male._

On the bright side, such a worthless sentiment should be easily remedied. She stepped forward until she was next to Judy and said tenderly, "Well, whatever happens in the future, at least we know what we're up against, thanks to you. None of those families would know what happened to their loved ones if it hadn't been for you."

"A lot of good that did."

They stopped walking again. "Don't talk like that. You did a great thing, you should be proud. Your first week on the force, and you solve the unsolvable case all by yourself."

"I didn't do it _all_ by myself."

Bellwether had been hoping she would say something like that. "Hmm? Oh, you mean that informant you tracked down? You know, I wanted to thank him at the press conference for assisting you, but he stormed off before I got the chance."

"Yeah…" was all Judy could say.

"How's he doing?"

"I… I haven't seen him since then."

"Oh. Well, it's for the best. He didn't look too happy about the warning you gave the public. I guess I can't blame him; all predators must feel threatened by the truth. Still, probably best if you stay away from him." Judy looked as if she wanted to correct her but didn't know how; Bellwether didn't wait to give her the chance. "I must admit, I was shocked at the way he lashed out at you that day. I read the report – you saved his life. Fine way to repay you. What am I saying? I shouldn't be surprised he turned on you. Couldn't expect anything else from a fox. This one in particular is quite the con artist, according to his record. Good thing you didn't need him for very long – it certainly wouldn't be wise for an officer to be seen associating with someone like that. Not that you really 'needed' him for anything – I mean, after the lead he gave you, what did he do for you besides slow you down and need you to save him? If that's all he's good for, you're better off without him…"

Judy gripped her badge in her left paw. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have this badge now," she said weakly.

"If Bogo had actually taken your badge, I would have gotten it back for you within five minutes." Judy didn't argue with that as she let her arm drop. "You know you can always count on me."

"I know," was all Judy said aloud, but the tone said, _I thought I could count on_ _ **him**_ _, too._

Bellwether briefly considered asking Judy what was wrong and getting her to confess her true feelings but decided it was better to maintain the appearance of ignorance. "Of course, it's no mystery why he was so keen to help you. No better ally for a career criminal than a cop. He probably thought he'd have it easy, with you feeling like you owed him and protecting him from then on…" Judy's eyes widened as her whole body stiffened up, indicating this speech had finally struck a nerve. "He must have figured out he couldn't fool you, or he wouldn't have dropped the act at the press conference. Can't say it wasn't a wise move – he must have known he couldn't keep it up forever. I mean, what does a fox know about friendship or loyalty? He obviously didn't know that a true friend would stand by you no matter what you said and accept it. I hope he wasn't dumb enough to think he could guilt-trip you into taking back what you said about his kind. No, I'm sure he would have known you're too smart for that. I'd like to think you taught him a lesson, but I bet if you looked him up now, you'd find him up to the same old tricks."

She paused so Judy couldn't avoid calculating how likely that was. "Probably…" Good enough.

"Foxes, predators, criminals… they're all the same, and they never change. You can't trust any of them."

Judy turned and faced her directly. "He wasn't like that. He wanted to be a cop." Not very promising.

"Shame he didn't go for it – we need more cops, not more criminals. I guess he doesn't care about the city as much as you do." No response, but that was a good sign in this case. "But that doesn't matter. What's he to you now?" Bellwether laughed as she added, "He was obviously so offended by your honesty and insight that he'll never forgive you, right?"

Judy's expression said more than enough, so her supplementing it with a helpless, "Right…", unable even to force a laugh of her own, was particularly satisfying.

"Then you're done with him. Unless you're shoving him in the back of your squad car in a muzzle and cuffs, you'll never see him again."

She waited, wanting Judy to answer this. "No, I guess not…" She said it reluctantly, but she did say it.

Bellwether put a comforting arm around the crushed rabbit's shoulders as she absorbed the painful truth she'd evidently never thought of before today. Now was the time to drop the pretense. "Then forget about him. Forget about whatever he said. It's time to move on. The city needs you to be in top form, Officer Hopps."

Judy gave herself a small shake, backed away, and straightened up, but she only sounded tired when she said, "I won't let you down." With that, she began walking down the hall again.

Knowing it was rash but her last chance to get paid for all her hard work, Bellwether called after her, "So, about that curfew…"

Judy said quickly, "I'll let Bogo know you're here," before speeding up and walking up the flight of stairs ahead. Bellwether could see nothing would be gained from following her, so she didn't bother.

She couldn't call the conversation entirely useless. It had given her a better picture of the extent of Judy's regret over losing this fox friend, and she'd said several things that she could tell the young officer was not going to forget any time soon. Given some time to stew in her mind, they might just convince her whom she ought to trust. She could use one more push in the right direction, though. Judy had let that fox distract her; she just needed a reminder of what she really wanted and who could give it to her. She wanted to be a hero. Well, they'd make her a hero – see how worried she was about what one mammal thought of her when she had the entire city admiring her. Everyone wanted power – if they gave her a little power, she'd be on their side 100%, craving more.

Their conversation and Bellwether's subsequent offer to be the face of the ZPD certainly did persuade Judy Hopps to change her mind. Unfortunately (Bellwether wasn't sure how), it produced the exact opposite result of what she'd been going for! Judy's newfound despair and the contrast of the generous offer didn't drive her give up her concern for predators – it drove her give up the fight completely! She turned in her badge and left town, to the dismay of everyone, the mayor most of all.

Was this all because of that fox? Probably not, that would be excessive, but he had definitely been the one to start it all. If not for him, even if Judy had begun to doubt herself later, Bellwether was positive, with no one else arguing against her, she could have won her back to her side. She was so frustrated at losing such a valuable ally, she was sorely tempted to call Doug up with a new target. But that would have accomplished nothing, except possibly pushing Judy to come back in passionate defense of the savage predators. So she put her thirst for revenge aside…

At least, she'd thought she did. Maybe if she hadn't been so eager to get revenge on both of them – on the rabbit for betraying her, and on the fox for being responsible for it – she would have been calm enough to take basic precautions like checking the ammo in her gun…

* * *

The forms were signed, the defense attorney's hand shaken, the prisoner on her way back to her cell. Judy was surprised she'd agreed to testify so quickly; apparently, there was no more honor among arsonists than there was among thieves. She was almost out the door to the visitors' center when she heard a soft but familiar laugh from behind her. The rabbit was taken aback only briefly – she'd known she was in this prison, just not that she was in this room. She must have just been brought in while Judy was busy with the witness. Bracing herself against the wave of disgust she could already feel mounting, Judy crossed her arms and turned around.

She couldn't tell by any external signs how well Bellwether was adapting to prison life, if that contemptuous, disdainful scowl was an act or not. The sheep quickly looked her up and down as if making a similar assessment before saying, "Well, if it isn't pred's best friend. Been a while – I was starting to wonder if I'd ever see you around here."

"Interesting," Judy said in a flat voice. "I was hoping I'd never see you again."

"What's the matter? Ashamed to look an old friend in the eye after stabbing her in the back, traitor?"

"Shouldn't that be my line?"

Bellwether looked like she'd just resisted the urge to jump to her feet. "How could you do it? How could you betray your kind like that? We could have changed the world together."

"You mean destroy it."

"Destroy predators, yes. Exactly what they deserve. Think of what they did to our kind for centuries. Without them, we'd all be safe. Everyone could live in harmony – isn't that what you want?"

"Oh, please, you don't care about harmony. You just wanted power."

"But you're better than that, right?" Bellwether laughed again. "Because you defended those primitive, savage beasts who can only survive through their aggressive hunting instincts?" Judy made no response other than rolling her eyes. "I should thank you – I admit, I couldn't have gotten as far as I did without you. Thank you for being the most influential advocate for my cause, Officer Hopps."

Judy shrugged and said, "You're right. I was wrong. You knew it was a lie, but I genuinely believed it. I won't argue if you say that made me as bad as you. The difference is, I've changed."

Bellwether's eyes narrowed. "Why? For _him?_ " The last word was hissed with such bitterness that Judy felt herself shudder slightly – she hadn't expected that. "You chose him over us? You betrayed your kind, ruined our one chance for vengeance, for prosperity, all for him? Why?! What did he ever do for you?!"

Judy took a second to ponder the best answer. "He opened my eyes."

"You're a fool."

"We fooled you," Judy said with a smile. "What does that make you?"

"You got lucky."

"And you underestimated us, just like we knew you would."

Bellwether seemed to calm down; her posture and voice were more relaxed when she asked, "How did you know I wouldn't check the gun?"

"Because you never would have suspected how well we worked together, how we were willing to risk everything to save each other, that I would trust him enough to put on an act like that."

Her answer had an odd effect on the sheep; she looked like Gideon Gray whenever he'd gotten called on in math class. After what felt like a long time, she said, "I was wrong. He's not your friend. You love him… don't you?"

Another unexpected turn, but not an unpleasant one. "Yes," Judy said triumphantly. "Yes, I do."

Bellwether grinned at her. "It won't work out. It never does."

"Oh," Judy said, as if surprised. "Then… I guess we'll have to be the first ones. I should thank you. We never would have gotten so close if it hadn't been for your scheme, so thank you, Dawn, for giving us this chance to show the world just how well predator and prey _can_ get along."

"Enjoy it while you can." Judy uncrossed her arms, suddenly feeling defensive. "You think _we_ were the only anti-predator group out there? There are dozens, maybe hundreds. It won't be long before another one rises up, and who do you think they'll go after first?"

Judy was a nanosecond away from exploding with rage at the implied threat when she heard a voice behind her: "Anyone who wants to lay a paw on her will have to go through me." He'd stopped her (from doing what, she didn't know) just in time. She didn't break her gaze with Bellwether but waited for him to walk up next to her and, without turning to look, reached her arm out to where she knew he'd be. The sensation gave her the strength to say in a perfectly even voice, "I take it they'll know that goes for me, too. And we know how well that turned out last time." Bellwether glanced back and forth from one of them to the other in something that looked like a cross between simple wrath, bewilderment, a frustrated sense of injustice, and even envy – the look of someone who'd lost a match to an opponent they knew was weaker. Judy was still analyzing it when Nick said, "Let's go, partner." She turned with him and left without another word.

The nature of Judy's job required more visits to that prison, but she and Bellwether never spoke again. It seemed like the final score had been settled in their last confrontation, when the dictator-wannabe had been compelled to recognize the nature of the force that had defeated her. To accept that all it took to override all the flatteries and fear she'd relied on to control everyone, to make them deaf to an offer of their deepest dream or a threat worse than death, was something as simple and incomprehensible as love.


End file.
